


False Faces (pained portraits)

by BatsAreFluffy



Series: Like tears in the rain [18]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Day 18: Panic, Executive Dysfunction, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27112412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatsAreFluffy/pseuds/BatsAreFluffy
Summary: The shaking was getting worse.He’d dropped three screwdrivers, one wrench, and more screws than he could count.Bruce leaned his head on the car’s panel, willing himself to take deep breaths and focus. There was no reason to be anxious.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Bruce Wayne & Batman, Bruce Wayne & Clark Kent
Series: Like tears in the rain [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950151
Comments: 6
Kudos: 48
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	False Faces (pained portraits)

It took three days for the volcano of emotions to finally erupt.

Bruce had felt the pressure since Thursday, after a horrifying case closed, and he’d been out as Brucie less than two hours later, carefully oblivious to anything other than women, cars, and egotism. He might have tossed a few more real champagnes down than usual, but it did nothing for the crawling sensation over his shoulders, the tensed up neck muscles. All evening was spent feeling one scream away from breaking cover and attacking anything in reach.

Friday was, thankfully, only at the office. He could block calls; focus on the everyday running of his company, delving into research, searching through contracts that needed a final eye for surprises. He was fine. He was doing well, even. Until his assistant walked into the room unannounced and nearly gave him a heart attack. Any of the calm he’d clawed back into his mind was gone. He hands were shaking too much to even think about driving home. Alfred said nothing to the odd request, merely came and drove him home.

The Bat had stayed in that night. Alfred having slipped 3 mg of lorazapam into his green tea may have been responsible.

Saturday was a day of tinkering, fixing odd parts of the car, and generally getting ready for the busiest night of the week. The Batman would prowl until dawn tonight. He would rest for a few hours mid afternoon, and by dusk he’d be already suited up, plotting out routes with Alfred.

The shaking was getting worse.

He’d dropped three screwdrivers, one wrench, and more screws than he could count.

Bruce leaned his head on the car’s panel, willing himself to take deep breaths and focus. There was no reason to be anxious. No one was here. Alfred was safe. He was safe. The world was not ending. No one was here. Alfred was safe. He was safe. The –

“Hey, Bruce, you down here?”

The mantra slammed to a halt in his mind, and _twisted_.

He was here. He wasn’t safe. He was angry at Bruce, he’d hurt Alfred, he’d burn the world down. He was here. Alfred wasn’t safe. No one safe no one safe, he was angry, he was angry, he wasn’t alone, he was here...

Bruce shook his head violently. He tried to raise his head – and while he thought about it, nothing happened. Clark’s footsteps were tapping down the stairwell in the cave proper, getting closer.

“Alfred said I’d find you down here. Hope it’s alright I let myself in.”

He should call out, make an attempt at being normal. But he couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t even open his mouth. He was frozen, and Clark was coming closer, and he wasn’t safe, and Alfred was gone, and he’s coming closer, he’ll see you, he’ll see you, he’ll know, and he’ll take everything away, burn burn burn...

“I figured I’d try and catch you before you head out. I wanted to talk to you about the next meeting agenda. Bruce?”

Dammit, just move, body! Just raise your head, look bewildered. Don’t just stay staring at the side panel, not even blinking. He’ll figure you out, he’ll know you’re broken, weak, human, false, just playing at being a man, he’ll figure it all out and he’ll take the cowl, the cave, everything away from you and Alfred won’t stop them this time...

“Bruce, is everything ok?” Clark’s voice was quieter, closer, and Bruce could barely flinch from it. His focus wavered, the delicate wires blurring together in his vision. He knows, the voices whispered. He knows, and you’re done. He’s Seen.

“Hey, you’re safe, nothing’s going to happen. It’s ok, it’s okay, just breathe for me, ok?”

He wasn’t breathing? Bruce pulled back enough to hear the harsh gasps coming from his chest, feel the wetness on his cheeks. The grand sobs tearing their way through the very human throat were horrendous. 

Oh, he managed to think, completely detached. Bruce is crying. Bruce is having a panic attack in front of Superman, and it’s going to be a bad one. Bruce was screaming, and crying, and doing horribly at keeping this part away, as a good little boy should. Don’t let the guests see him, darling, take him upstairs.

He barely felt the cold hands taking his, or half carrying him to a bench. He never noticed the second set of foot falls, let alone that they were running at the end. And when something pricked his neck and he was wrapped in the tightest burrito, did his eyes finally close.


End file.
